Northwest Vignettes
by likemoves
Summary: He's surprised to hear how many people blame her. He wants to tell them about his first-hand knowledge. He knows she's not cold or frigid or any of the other terrible things they're saying about her.  Will/Alicia, Georgetown to Pilot.


No one ever said law school was easy.

But Alicia thought maybe – just maybe – it wouldn't be so bad.

She was, after all, a perfect student. She was smart, articulate, and poised. She possessed a maturity beyond her years, the product of an uneasy, chaotic childhood wherein she became the parent and her thrice-married mother the petulant teenager.

And then her first class happened.

"Good morning," a tall, middle-aged man says at the front of the lecture hall. "I'm Alan Roberts, your ethics professor. Some of you may know me from my previous work as a federal judge."

She stifles back a laugh. "Great," she thinks. "One minute in and they already have egos the size of the campus."

She looks around and is surprised to see her classmates nodding in agreement, taking notes as if Mr. Roberts has just dispensed some invaluable wisdom.

Her pen remains unmoved.

"Just showing up to this class doesn't mean you'll pass," he continues, passing out the reading list. "In fact, most of you won't pass. Your final grade will be determined by one exam at the end of the term, but I expect you to answer every single time I call on you in class."

Alicia's eyes grow wide at the length of the reading list. She wonders how she'll manage it all.

"This isn't a sprint, ladies and gentlemen," he says, looking pointedly at her. "It's a marathon."

Her stomach churns for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>She walks home through her new neighborhood. It's lined with bricks and trees and history, but she knows she has to be careful. It's DC, after all. There are thefts and murders and all sorts of things she never really had to worry about in Indiana.<p>

She thinks about home, sometimes, but she doesn't miss living there – she's already been gone for 5 years. No, when she thinks of home, she thinks of him. Brian. What life would've been like if she had stayed. Would she have continued seeing him? Would they have been married by now? He was comfort, stability, the only person who understood the sharp dichotomy of her life.

If only she had the same passion for him as he had for her.

She slips off her heels in her compact, basement apartment and stares at the pile of textbooks next to her bed. Her nerves come back again, but she pushes them aside. She's determined to become a lawyer – everything else be damned.

* * *

><p>She sees him the next day in class. His eyes and hair are dark, his accent half-street, half-smart. He's flanked by a couple guys and a girl, who all talk like they've known each other forever.<p>

She doesn't know why but she can't stop staring.

"Quit it, you guys," he says to his friends. "We're being rude."

"Sorry," he continues, turning and extending his hand to hers. "I'm Will, and this is Paul, Denise, and Larry."

"Alicia," she says, shaking all of their hands. "Nice to meet you all."

They seem nice enough, she thinks.

"Gardner here was just talking some nonsense about the Hoyas' prospects this year," Paul says. "He thinks they're going to go all the way to the Final Four."

"Which means they'll end up dead last," Denise chimes in. The friends all laugh. Alicia nods and smiles, even though she knows nothing about basketball.

"So," she says, changing the subject. "You all know each other?"

"I guess you can call us the Baltimore contingent," Paul says. "We're all from there."

"But we just met here," Larry says. "It's just the type of place it is. We always end up…sticking together."

"Speaking of which," Will interrupts. "We're all going to a party later for the 1Ls. You know, up on 36th Street? You should come with us."

"Oh, I don't know," she says. "I've got a lot of work to do."

"Come on," Will says. "We _all_ have a lot of work to do."

She feels herself say yes before her mind can tell her no.

* * *

><p>She spots him in the kitchen, downing a shot.<p>

"Welcome," he says, giving her a crooked smile. "I hope it's not as bad as it looks."

"Define bad," she says.

"Well, it wouldn't be so _bad_ if you joined along," he says.

He whips himself around and grabs a beer bottle from the cooler on the sink. She takes it from his hand and opens it against the countertop. He lets his eyes follow the curves of her black dress, careful not to get caught.

"Impressive," he says.

"I was a waitress in college," she says. "Comes in handy sometimes."

He laughs as Alicia takes a sip from her beer. It doesn't taste as bad as she remembered it.

"Gardner!" Paul shouts from the other end of the kitchen. "Upstairs in 5!"

"All right, all right!" Will shouts back. "Hey, I gotta go. But I'm glad you came out. Maybe I'll see you around later?"

"Yeah, sure," she says. "It was nice to see you again."

She grabs another beer and circulates around the house, happy to distract herself with small talk with the other 1Ls. Two hours later, she hears him scream "cannonball!" and watches as he emerges from the backyard pool in his boxers and t-shirt.

She wonders if his sense of adventure extends elsewhere.

* * *

><p>It's the long Columbus day weekend and they go past Georgetown for the first time since Alicia's arrival. They tour the buildings and the monuments and slowly make their way through some neighborhoods. The further east they walk, the more abandoned homes and boarded up businesses she sees.<p>

"Welcome to DC," he says, pointing at another old house with gates on its doors and bars on its windows.

"The land of the extremely rich and incredibly poor," she says.

He nods. "It's not much better in Baltimore," he says solemnly. "That's why I wanted to become a lawyer."

"What type of work do you see yourself doing?" she asks.

"I'd like to start out at a public defender's office or maybe a non-profit," Will says. "There's a lot of those types of jobs around here. They always say, if you want to save the world…"

"Come to DC," she finishes. "And here I just came to get away from home."

He laughs. "I'm sure it was no accident," he says. "You must've gotten some killer grades to get into Georgetown."

"You must have, too," she says, ignoring the question.

He smiles. "I'll never tell."

* * *

><p>The semester progresses and the library becomes her own personal torture chamber. She's with him, always with him. She's made friends with Paul and Larry and some other 1Ls, too – but she keeps them at an arm's length.<p>

She believes in quality over quantity.

She remains focused and determined most of the time. Sometimes she finds herself distracted during their marathon study sessions, when his arm rests so close to hers she swears she can feel something between them. She tells herself that it's nothing, that it's normal, that it's what happens in close quarters.

She knows he's started seeing someone. Denise, she thinks. Maybe someone else too. He loves women almost as much as he loves booze and basketball. She knows this about him because, with her, he can never lie.

But that doesn't stop her from thinking about him, usually at night, when she can't sleep. She thinks of his easy smile, his charming ways – and she feels herself drift away in a cloud of memory bliss.

* * *

><p>She hears them arguing from outside – their voices louder and louder. A few choice swear words come out. They don't want to eavesdrop, but they can't turn away, either. Denise bursts through the door at their local hangout and walks over to their group.<p>

"He's such a jerk," Denise says, bursting through the door toward their group of friends.

"I'm sorry," Alicia says. But she isn't. Not really. She knows they weren't meant to be.

"Want me to punch him out?" Larry says jokingly.

"No," she says. "I don't think that'll help. It's just – I hope he realizes what he's missing."

"You know I love Gardner, but man," Paul says, turning his glance to Alicia. "I just don't understand him sometimes. You just can't predict what he's going to do."

Alicia feels her face burn at the sound of his words. She's a private person – very, very private. She even refers to him by an alias – "Mr. Georgetown" – in her own journals. She'll be damned if her social life turns into some sort of dinner theater entertainment for anyone.

She'd rather watch the drama than be a part of it.

* * *

><p>When the 1L class rankings are announced, only Alicia is surprised at her own high standing.<p>

"Congratulations, Alicia!" Will says, opening a bottle of champagne at their local hangout.

"Wow, fancy," she says, eyeing the bottle of Veuve Cliquot. "How did you afford this?"

"Well, I figured, for all the money I've spent here this year," Will says, pouring their drinks. "They owe me one on the house."

"I didn't know it worked that way," Alicia says.

"It doesn't," Larry says, grabbing them stools to sit on. "We snuck it in here. We figured you deserved it for kicking all of our asses back to Baltimore."

"Except for me," Will says. "You only kicked mine to Bowie."

* * *

><p>They're all drunk and dancing on the bar's miniscule dance floor. She doesn't know if it's the champagne, or the end of her first year, or the proximity of one Mr. Will Gardner – but she's never felt freer in her life.<p>

She closes her eyes and feels her body writhe along to the beat. She hears him singing along, completely off-key. He's so close to her.

"Oh my God," Alicia says, opening her eyes. "You are such a dork."

He leans in to whisper in her ear, his stance unsteady.

"And you've got moves," he says. She steps back and feels his gaze flicker up and down her body. She's seen him look at women before – but never like this.

"Will – , " she starts, but his mouth covers hers before she can say anything more.

* * *

><p>She wants to run, wants to tell him she can't do this, that they have so much to accomplish alone, <em>separately<em>, but the way he pulls and grips and – oh my _God_ – she can't think straight anymore.

"We should go back," she breathes.

He takes her hand and maneuvers them through the late-night M Street crowd. "I don't want this night to end," she says as they turn down her street.

He turns to her. "Really?"

She presses herself up on her toes and wraps her arms around him. "Really," she says. "The only thing is…God, this is so embarrassing. But my landlord will throw me out if she hears – or sees – that I have a, um, male visitor."

"I knew it!" he says, throwing his head back in laughter. "So that's why your rent is so cheap."

She pushes a finger to his lips. "I don't go around broadcasting it," she says. "Everyone would say I'm a sex-deprived overachiever."

"Which you totally are," he says, running his hands down her body. "But…I think I can change that."

She moves her lips to his ear. "I'd like to see you try."

* * *

><p>She lets her eyes take in the lean, angular lines of his body in the morning light, careful not to wake him. Her mind drifts to the night before and she smirks to herself. He wasn't perfect, she wasn't perfect, but it was <em>them<em> and it was everything she ever wanted.

He wakes up an hour later, surprised she's still there. He suddenly realizes what it was like for all the other women before her – the ones who were so vulnerable, the ones who always wanted him to stay just a little bit longer.

She kisses him slowly, deeply, and he wonders if this is it. If this is what it's like to be in love.

He's never been more afraid in his life.

* * *

><p>She goes to Chicago a week later. She's one of the few who's earned a paid summer internship. He doesn't tell her to stay and she doesn't ask him if he wants her to. She doesn't want to be clingy or needy. She knows how he is. <em>That's the problem with sleeping with your best friend<em>, she thinks. _You know exactly what they've done and what they might be capable of doing again._

He stays in DC and interns at a non-profit. He does the happy hour circuit and takes up with a young Hill intern from California. She crawls into his bed at night and, in the darkness, he almost mistakes her for Alicia.

He's never hated himself more.

* * *

><p>She meets him at a bar. He's tall, handsome, and charismatic. The women around him seem too interested in what he has to say, too aware of their proximity to future greatness. He's more proper, more polished than Will, but she doesn't seek him out.<p>

She lets him come to her at the end of the night. She's the only one who willfully ignored him, the only one who didn't laugh at his jokes.

He always liked a challenge.

* * *

><p>She feels herself giving in, feels herself trying to forget Will. She hasn't heard from him all summer. She figures he's moved on.<p>

She lets Peter stay the night a few weeks later, surprised at her own confidence in seducing him. She knows it's Will who's done this to her, that's made her feel like the type of woman she always wanted to be.

She likes him more than she thinks she would – in fact, _a lot_ more. He offers her the world, the passion and desire _and_ the safety and security. She never thought she could get them all together, but with him, it feels like anything is possible.

Including a future.

He gets a job offer in DC and moves back with her in August.

* * *

><p>He wants to confess, wants to tell her how much he's fucked everything up, but she looks so happy with Peter he can't bring himself to it. He's jealous of Peter, he knows he is, but he pushes it away.<p>

_If only I asked her to stay_, he thinks.

They return to their friendly competition. He hears the whispers sometimes – he knows she does, too – but they never acknowledge them. Not to each other, at least. DC is small enough. He knows it wouldn't take much for Peter to find out about their past.

The wedding invitation remains unopened on his kitchen table, right next to their graduation program. He doesn't have to open it to know what it is. _Mr. Will Gardner and guest_.

Like he would bring his new 19-year-old girlfriend to Alicia's wedding.

* * *

><p>She never thought family would come first. Not with the upbringing she had. But there she is, making their lunches every morning, kissing him good-bye as he goes off to the career she once imagined for herself.<p>

Sometimes she glances at his notes and wonders how she would approach a case. It's been so long, though. More than decade. _How did that happen_, she thinks.

The further removed she becomes from work, the more she wonders about him. Will. She thinks about where he might be now – if he was achieving all the things she thought she would achieve in her career.

* * *

><p>It makes him sick to his stomach, seeing her there, standing next to him. Everyone's talking about it, everyone's asking his opinion, because his work is his life and his life is his work.<p>

He's surprised to hear how many people blame her. He wants to tell them about his first-hand knowledge. He knows she's not cold or frigid or any of the other terrible things they're saying about her.

He wants to find her and shield her from it all, finally apologize for letting her go so many years ago.

_If only I get another chance_, he thinks as he listens to her voicemail.

_If only we all got one more chance. _


End file.
